Disclaimer: woke up this morning, still don't own Supernatural. Damn
(songs used in this chapter are 3 Doors Down-Behind Those Eyes, and Three Days Grace- Animal I Have Become)
Blue Moon
Chapter Three: Maybe She's A Dominatrix
Behind those eyes you hide…
"Any word you can actually remember?" he asked me, sipping his own beer carefully on the couch next to me. What a lightweight.
"Yeah, actually. Porte, I swear they must have said it 10 times in the span of 5 minutes."
My brother looked off into space, thinking it over for a moment. "Secret," he finally replied.
My smirk turned into a full on grin. "Really now? Wonder what secrets she has…"
Sam gave me The Look. The 'don't even go there you pervert' look. He should have learned by now that it never worked.
"Dean…" he said, making it some kind of warning.
"What? You gotta admit, your curious. Hell, maybe, she's a dominatrix."
"Your sick man," he replied, nervously drinking his first beer again. I was on my third. It was beer, after so many nights of booze, beer might as well have been really carbonated seltzer.
"Dude, she keeps a pair of fucking shackles in her room. Purple velvet lined shackles. Explain that one to me sasquatch."
"Maybe she's a submissive,"
I raised an eyebrow at him. He surprised me, a first for ol' reliable Sammy
"Why Sammy, you dog you. You never told me you were into BDSM."
His next expression reminded me of the time I called him the uber nerd for spending two hours playing World of Warcraft. Indignation, anger, and confusion.
"I'm not! I just know stuff, that's all. Listen, we should do some research on the rest of the town, see if there's a pattern or, or something! Never know what we can find in this place."
Two hours ago I wouldn't have believed that statement, but after meeting Danny, I was a bit more open-minded.
"I'll go see if Mistress Jesse is done getting dressed, maybe she can tell us where the town records are kept."
He glared at me.
"Don't call her that dude, seriously."
"Alright…slave."
I can't escape this hell
So many times i've tried
But I'm still caged inside
I was already dressed, wearing a black tie back halter, cut-off shorts, and my own version of combat boots. The style reminds me of women's hiking boots, except they're completely black leather with a steel toe. I'm really fond of them.
My hair was even held back from my face in a massive black jaw clip to reveal a bit of charcoal eyeliner and clear mint lip gloss. And all under 15 minutes. Oh yea, I fuckin rock.
I had just finished packing my bag when I was ready to tear my room apart. Ugg! I just had it yesterday…
"Danny, have you seen my.."
Before the sentence was even finished the object of my search was hovering above an open draw.
"Merci," I replied, throwing the pewter celtic cross on its black cord around my neck. It stood for balance, and helped to keep me calm.
There was that scent again. I let out a sigh as I heard the knocking.
"Come in,"
Dean as always.
"I've got a proposition for you,"
Oh, God help me. Please? Come on, don't make me beg.
"Sammy and I were wondering if you'd like to come with us do some research. Problem is; we need you to get us to the town records.
I laughed, and silently thanked the Lord All Mighty.
"Alright, but I'm driving."
"No you're not," he said, his expression completely dead pan serious in less then a heartbeat.
Again, I laughed.
"Calm down, I've got my own set of wheels, and they kick your Impala's ass."
He raised an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "Prove it."
Haha, bring it on Titan.
Theres something I can't see
There's something different in the way you smile
I followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"Sam, you comin or not? Cause, I'll gladly leave you here."
He rolled his eyes before finally following us into the garage. What I saw there damn near stole my breath away.
Pitch blake, shining with the perfect reflection of a recent waxing, was a 1965 Thunderbird convertible.
"Nice ride," was Sammy's only response. I glared at him, willing him not to mess this up for me. Just this once.
"How's she handle?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at the young hunter, who was completely amused by my awe. Hey, as long as she does that sexy grin, she can be as damned amused, as she wants
"Like a dream about wet sticky things," she answered, completely oblivious to her own innuendo. That or she was a damn good actor, I wasn't sure.
I hopped in shotgun as she leapt into the drivers seat, not bother with the door. Sam, however, did. Damn gentleman.
The garage doors opened on command as she revved it up, stupid ghost. The purr of the car took away the slight annoyance. Her music of choice, Buckcherry's newest album, kinda helped there too. I usually go for the oldies, but Buckcherry seemed determined to revive it. And he was doin a damned good job of it with Crazy Bitch.
Ok, let me just check my list here for one second. A gorgeous wild woman who loves rock music, drinking, and has a respect for old cars. It was official. Jesse was perfect.
Now all I had to do was kill this furball, maybe find out this little 'porte' she's hiding, and she's all mine.
I was not being presumptuous(just because I can't spell it doesn't mean I can't think it), no woman can resist me. I'm not cocky, it's a fact. Seriously.
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
I threw the car in gear and parked it carefully in the lot, still humming Out of Line and swaying my hips to the beat as I walked inside the nice air-conditioned building.
Shades hid my eyes, just in case. One night till the first night of full moon, you can never be too careful. My bag was proof of that.
It was a little black mini-backpack, sitting just above my butt. Inside it safely concealed 3 syringes full of my day meds, one of night meds, my Browning High-Power loaded with silver bullets, wallet, and extra clips. Fully equipped to treat and kill werewolves. Why did that seem wrong?
I shrugged the thought off before it leeched onto my brain and headed up the old wrought iron spiral staircase to the records room upstairs, after flashing the desk guy my research card. I could smell the guys following me, mere footsteps behind.
I grabbed a computer, intent on confirming an order, and let the guys do their thing.
Hey, don't give me that look. I worked too. I looked over the murder locations that matched Eric's M.O., listing them to later put on a map. Multi-tasking; it's a talent of mine. The other talents I am not discussing. Ever.
As you turned to walk away
I saw another look in your eye
I browsed the shelves while Sam tinkered away on his precious laptop, and Jesse busied herself on her own terminal. There was nothing I could see that was useful, except a map of the area. I left it next to Sammy and went to see what Jesse was up to.
What? Sasquatch is research boy. I don't do research, I kill things.
Apparently so did Jesse, who immediately minimized the page she was on, titled as I looked over her shoulder.
"Find anything?"
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
It was about 3:00 in the afternoon by the time we returned to my house. We didn't even really find anything useful. All of Eric's killings had taken place in the park, which made sense. Easy way to kill without getting caught, and always have some form of prey.
So, it wasn't completely pointless. Or maybe that's what I was telling myself to not feel so useless. Yeah, that could be it.
No, I don't consider myself useless. Maybe confound for lack of a better term. Afterall, turning furry once, in this case twice, a month has its fringe benefits. Supernatural speed and strength, kick ass healing, and immunity to pretty much every disease you can think of.
Problem was I couldn't use any of those without arousing suspicion from my two houseguests, and thus getting killed. Life tends to be cruel that way.
Well, I did get something accomplished, just nothing to do with the case. Marianne had her medicine on the way, and she was pretty well in control for now.
I should probably explain that. I run a site called Lunar Haven. It's a place for others like me to help each other.
Now before you completely tweak out on me, know this. The offer only stands for those who have not yet taken a life, the newly turned. After a lycan gets its first taste of blood and death, there's no turning back. You become a monster. You become an Eric.
Anyway, I offer medication and a "safe room" as I call it free of charge, sort of an expenses paid treatment to control lycanthropy.
It is not a cure. There is none. Trust me, I know. I've spent the better part of a year searching for it. I turned 22, and accepted it. Doesn't mean I like it, but I've learned to deal…most of the time.
Add all of that up plus my feeling of confinement, I needed to get out. With about 3 hours till sundown, I had plenty of time to go out for a run. I jogged up to my room with plans on doing just that.
Behind those eyes you lieSam was in the shower, Jesse was out running, and I was on Sam's laptop. I tried to go with her…
"You want to go jogging?"
"…Yeah!"
"In jeans and biker boots?"
That was the whole conversation. She did have a point. And I was not going to wear shorts, not even for her.
Besides it gave me the opportunity to find out what Jesse was really doing earlier.
"Dean, what the hell are you doing?"
Damn.
"Reseaching," I answered, as if I always did research on Sam's laptop.
"Dean, looking at porn is not research."
I typed in the site url, completely focused, before the words registered.
"…hey!"
Ok, he had a good point. But hell if I'm letting Sam win. He looked over my shoulder, damn shaggy hair dripping water on my back.
"What are you doing?"
"Researching genius, now mind the shirt."
He did his usual eye roll-huff 'your such an ass'thing.
"Let me see, God knows I know more about computers then you do."
Again, he had a point. And if let me find out what Jesse was hiding…
"What exactly are you researching on an rpg site?" he asked, grinning in amusement in disbelief.
"Jesse and a what site?"
"Rpg, roleplay game. This sites a lycan rpg site, that's smart talk for werewolf role playing game."
"Haha dude, very fucking funny." Damn sasquatch, but then I had a thought.
"Can you figure out which sn is hers?"
"I dunno dude, maybe. This place has a ton of security protocols," he added, turning around to look back at me. "We could just ask her Dean."
"And admit I was spying on her? Hell no! I'm not dealing with a pissed of dominatrix dude!"
"Don't call her that dude."
"Alright slave boy, don't get your bondage in a bunch."
"Dude, don't fuckin call me that."
"Or else what, slave boy?" I mocked,
"Or I won't help you investigate Jesse,"
"…you bitch."
(as always, R&R!! If I don't get at least two I will highjack Ch 4 from you, leaving you with this obnoxiously eivl cliffhanger until one of us caves)